A Dangerous Recovery
by AnimalCops
Summary: RED vs BLUE: After Washington was wounded on a mission, York is called in to help. Can he get through it even when old emotions for the Recovery Agent begin to surface?
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N from A.C.: This is a RED VS BLUE fanfiction. Yaoi. Which means GAY. York/Wash pairing thank you very much. XD Blood and fun stuff as well. Enjoy.**_

_**Warnings: Blood, OoCness, OCs, yaoi.**_

"Agent New York, come in." The radio buzzed loudly in York's ear. "Come in, Agent New York."

"Yes, command. This is Agent York. Over."

"Agent York, Recovery Agent One is out. We fear he's K.O.'d by the enemy. You're the closest agent to him, I'll send coordinates."

'_Wash... Just had to be Wash, huh?_' York thought as command sent the coordinates to his helmet. '_Couldn't have been anyone else. First blinded in one eye, and now Wash got hurt... This war hates me._'

"Do you have the location York?" Command spoke loud enough to snap York out of his trance.

"Uh, yeah, Command, I got it. Location Sandtrap, Outpost 19b. Am I correct?"

"Yes, you are York. Hurry and get there quickly. Use the AI Delta if you need medical help on Wash's condition. Command out."

"Agent York, out." He replied curtly, shutting off his radio.

A green soldier suddenly appeared in front of York. He was dressed in green glowing armor from head to toe and was roughly the size of York's head. The figure's helmet was off, however, and it showed a man of his early 20s (if he was human), his shaggy hair glowing a dull green.

"York, I suppose we should get there quickly." The AI said softly.

"Yeah, D. I think we should." York said as his jog broke into a run, going for his vehicle.

"York." He spoke again, to get the agent's attention, "Just one small question..."

"What is it? I'm kinda in a hurry here."

"Do you think your previous encounters with Agent Washington will change your thoughts on this mission?"

"Now, Delta, what would make you think that?" York replied sarcastically, rolling his eyes under his helmet for emphasis.

"I take that as a yes."

"I cared for that guy and he just... left after my... incident." A hand subconsciously reached up to his left eye. "He just... never seemed to care enough for me."

"I fear he does. My sensors indicate that both Agents California and Alaska were within 100-mile radius. Washington must have done something to get you to come out specifically."

York sighed and decided he needed some alone time, "Delta, off-line."

"Complying."

York groaned as he jumped into his vehicle, he strapped on the safety belt before slamming his foot down on the gas. The jeep quickly jerked to life and began speeding to the south.

'_I'm an infiltrations specialist,_' York thought, '_Why on Earth would they send a blacksmith to help someone... and why does it have to be Wash?_'

His thoughts were interrupted as a burst of sand flew in front of his vision. He was definitely at Sandtrap... Every turn and every press on the brakes caused sand and small rocks to fly into his line of vision, occasionally even hitting his helmet and giving him a little scare. The soon-to-be Recovery Agent jumped swiftly over the side of the jeep, and gathered his supplies. He walked to a nearby base, hopefully where Wash was.

A red soldier was standing in the doorway, blocking York's only way in. The private was dumbly swinging his gun back and forth, out of boredom. The freelancer stepped up to the soldier and spoke, snapping the private to attention.

"Private, I need access to this building."

"Sorry, sir. I can't let anyone pass... But, I can call the Sergeant if you want."

"Please, just call him." York said, tapping his foot impatiently.

The red turned around and buzzed on his radio. York could hear the loud muffled voice coming from the man's helmet. After a few moments the buzzing stopped and the soldier turned around to face York.

"Are you, uh, Agent New York?" The soldier hesitantly asked.

"Yes... That's me..."

"And... You're headed to help that guy Washington, right?"

"Yes..."

"Okay, then you're allowed admittance. We brought Washington to the spare room. First door on your left." The private pointed to a hallway. "Oh, and, uh, sorry to keep you waiting."

"It's fine..."

"If you need anything just call fer Private Smith, alright?"

"Can do, soldier." York nodded; he was already getting tired of talking to the private.

The regulation red private turned and walked back to the door to resume his guard duty. York turned and started to walk down the hall that Smith directed him to. York pushed open the first left door and pushed it open. He looked around the room until his eyes fell on the still body on the bed. His jaw dropped at the sight of Wash.

The recovery agent was laying on the cot, only in thin, black under-armor. He was curled into a ball but York could distinguish the man quite easily. His brown, scraggly hair was deeply matted with blood and his hazel eyes were closed. Wash's breathing was so soft that York could barely see his chest rising and falling. The black under-armor was torn and ripped; drying blood also covered his chest and stomach. The desert sand was stuck to the bloody parts, making him look even dirtier and more injured than he probably was. But York's working eye was drawn to Wash's unprotected feet. They were raw and bloody, also covered in sand, probably from running away from whatever attacked him. And Wash's armor was nowhere in sight.

York removed his helmet and ruffled his dark brown hair; he looked to Wash through his one working eye and sighed. He stuck his head out of the doorway and shouted for Smith.

After a few minutes the red soldier came skidding down the hall to meet York. He made a quick stop and saluted. His eyes met York's as he asked, "Wh- What happened to your eye?"

"That's none of your business, private!" York snapped, he absolutely hated when people brought up his eye or scar.

"S-sorry, sir!" Smith quickly replied with a stumbling salute, "What can I do to help?"

"Get me a pail of water, a cloth and a medic," York noticed Wash breathing was slowing down, "And hurry!"

The red private sped out of the room as York took a seat next to Wash, he grabbed the inanimate wrist and held two fingers to the large blue vein.

Smith jetted into the room and dropped a pail and a cloth at York's feet.

"Is he breathing?" The private asked.

York turned to the private and replied, "Just barely, did you call for the medic like I asked?"

"Yeah, she'll be here soon."

"Okay, thanks, private."

"No problem... and remember, if you need anything else, just call."

York grumbled and shoved the cloth into the water; he waited a moment before removing it and ringing out the excess water. York softly turned Wash's body onto its side so Wash's front was facing the wall. The back of the Recovery Agent's head was a giant bloody mess. York lightly pushed back some of Wash's hair and started to dab at the bloody mess. As soon as he cleared most of the dried blood away, York had to turn his head to keep from vomiting.

The back of Wash's skull was smashed in; it looked like someone hit him in the back of the head with a shotgun. It must have either been very hard, or Wash wasn't wearing his helmet at the time. York dabbed at the wound again as fresh blood started to ooze out. He buried his hand into the tangled hair, wiping away the fresh blood.

A figure in orange and maroon armor stepped into the doorway."Did anyone call for a medic?"

York's head snapped around so fast he was sure he snapped someing. Looking at the woman in the doorway, he noticed she had her helmet under one arm and her medical bags in each hand. The strawberry blonde hair was falling into her bright blue eyes as she called to York.

"Do you mind coming over here and helping me with my bags?"

York nodded slightly and disentangled his hand from Wash's matted hair; he put the cloth back into the water bucket and stood up. The freelancer calmly walked over to the medic and took a bag.

"What's your name?" York asked as he lugged the bag over to the bed where Wash was laying.

"Medical Officer Murdock." She replied softly, carrying her bag with ease, "Call me Eliza."

"Alright, Eliza. I'm Agent New York. Call me York." He nodded, turning back to the almost-lifeless form. "What do we do to help him?"

"We're gonna have to clean him up and treat the wounds." She replied staring at the body. "His suit seems to be glued on with blood, so we'll have to cut it off."

York blinked a few times before looking at her. Ã"Cut it off? Won't that be a little dangerous? We could hurt him..."

"Not at all. I have medical supplies. Now help me get the top of his suit off."

York sighed as he reached towards the neckline of the suit. The black material pulled slightly at the skin when York pulled at it. Eliza leaned in with her medical scissors and cut lightly at the fabric. York's breathing hitched as the cloth around Wash's chest fell to the floor. York could see the well-defined chest muscles and abs under all the blood and he immediately regretted coming. He couldn't see his love like this... Covered in blood and sand.

York turned around and sighed as the medic pulled farther down on the fabric. York spoke up, "You think you should go clean him off in the bathroom? I mean... you could get fresh water there if you needed it and privacy."

"Come to think of it, yes." Eliza said, "Can you help me get him into the bathroom?"

York blushed as he lifted Wash's feet and the medic grabbed him by under the arms.

'_I really can't stand seeing Wash like this..._' York thought, '_It's just too much, I'll have to get him fixed up ASAP._'


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N from A.C.: Please remember, I totally make up everything that the medic says. None of it is probably true. I wouldn't know. Just go with it. XD**_

_**Oh, and italics are memories/flashbacks.**_

York and Eliza quickly carried Wash into the base's small, yet somehow roomy, bathroom. Eliza had been holding a cloth, now soaked through with blood, to Wash's head to prevent it from bleeding any more. The fresh blood had begun to dry and clot to keep any more from dripping out. But Wash was loosing far too much blood, too fast.

"Okay, we can set him in the bathtub, I'll go get my supplies."

The two took the limp body over to the tub and gently put him in. The medic left York alone with Wash's unconscious form for a few minutes. Memories of Wash and himself came flooding to the freelancer's mind. Happy, sad, even painful ones. Wash had gotten injured too many times to count, but he always recovered. He always, always pulled through.

"_I fear he will not make it, York." Delta had said._

"_No, no, he'll make it... I know he will." York turned his head to look at the man on the hospital bed. "I just can't believe this happened to him..." York nearly sobbed._

"_Yes, it is rather unfortunate."_

"_I don't see why he got attacked... He was just recovering Beta."_

"_Maybe someone did not want Beta to be recovered..."_

"_Maybe, Delta." York said, he placed a hand gently on the man in the hospital bed. "Maybe..."_

"York, perhaps I can be of assistance?" Delta's projected image flickered a bit before appearing completely in front of York's face.

"Oh yeah, D?" York turned to him, "What could you help with? Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"I do apologize, but perhaps I could help with-"

"York, how's Wash doing?" Eliza interrupted as she walked through the doorway.

The freelancer looked over at the doorway and just blinked as Delta quickly disappeared before the wide-eyed medic.

"York... What the hell was that?" She shrieked.

"What..? It's Delta, my AI all the freelancers have them." York said quietly.

"Oh... I... I thought they got deleted or something..."

"What would make you think that?"

"Wash didn't have one."

"WHAT?" York jumped up to his feet, and turned to face the medic. "Where's Epsilon?"

"I have no clue! Why the hell are you so concerned about some stupid computer program?"

"Epsilon isn't just any computer program," York replied, "Neither is Delta..."

"And just what exactly makes Delta so special?" She huffed, putting her hands on her hips

"Delta's-"

"I am the logical one of the AI 'family'..." Delta interrupted as he appeared once more.

"Thank you D. Yeah, he is, Delta can put two and two together faster than any human. Or AI for that matter..."

Eliza crossed her arms over her armored chest. "Then why can't he tell us what happened to Wash?"

"There is not enough sufficient data for a proper assumption." The AI replied dryly.

"What's your problem with D anyways?" York frowned at Eliza.

"I just don't like them, it's a long story okay? These AI hurt someone close to me."

"I know what you mean." York looked at Wash's body sadly. "They've hurt someone close to me far to many times."

The medic replied,"I suppose we should tend to him, huh? But, York, what made Epsilon so special?"

_Wash pulled York by the arm away from his training. The bigger man turned to York, his eyes held a mix of fear and pain._

"_I don't know how much longer I can go on with this AI thing..."_

"_What? Why?"_

"_He just..." Wash sighed. "He, he sends images York."_

"_What do you mean?"_

"_Memories, he sends memories." Wash sighed,"I-I don't know how to explain it any more than that..."_

"_It's alright, Wash. They're just images... they can't hurt you."_

"_No... You're right. They can't, but Epsilon can..._

"_What? He hurts you?" A sudden burst of fear spread through York's system._

"_Every time he has those memories, he taps into my brain..." Wash said, "When he's hurt in those memories, he makes me feel the pain..."_

"_What? Wash, we've got to get that thing out of you!"_

"_York... No..." Wash mumbled under sudden groans. The man collapsed to the floor, holding his head in his hands, his entire body trembling uncontrollably. York gasped and shouted the freelancer's name, but it couldn't be heard over his own screams of pain. He curled into a ball, arms clutching at himself, tearing at his flesh and making himself bleed.. Wash gave a sudden gasp and reached out for York. The bigger man closed his eyes tight and clenched his teeth so hard York was sure they would break. He breathed deeply through the pain that the AI was causing, trying to will his body to calm down._

_Then, just as quickly as it had come, it stopped. The Recovery Agent sat up and was breathing heavily, he blinked a few times and turned to York._

"_See...?" Wash managed to gasp through subsiding pain. "That's what keeps happening... but this one... was much weaker..."_

"_Weaker? There are ones that hurt more than that?" York squeaked through his surprise, "Wash, we need to get that thing out of you!"_

"_I can't they'll tap his memories... we can't let them get to his memories, York..." Wash grumbled as he put a hand on his knees and got up._

"That's classified." York said, harsher than he meant to, "I can't say. Sorry."

She nodded silently and went back to work on the Recovery Agent.

The blood on Wash's skull had thoroughly dried and Eliza started to clean the small cuts that were scattered on his torso. The miniscule cuts on his chest were not even noticable compared to the crack in his skull. The medic gently prodded at each wound with a damp rag.

York shuddered at the sight of Wash's bloody body. He offered to go and get another cloth for the medic. Eliza understood and let him go. York took a last look at Wash before leaving, the image of the dying body sent a cold chill up his spine.

The freelancer slowly walked to the base's kitchen and searched through the cabinets for a rag. He saw one in a small drawer near the stove and slowly walked back to the room. York softly pushed the door open and closed it behind him as he walked in. York walked to the bathroom door, opening it without knocking.

Eliza was on her knees, with the blood soaked rag on the floor beside her. She was lightly tracing her fingers on Wash's slow rising chest, and muscular arms. She ran her hands over his chest, watching as his breathing hitched a little. But she didn't notice the door creak open and York walk into the room.

"What're you _doing_?" York yelped, snaping her out of a trance.

"I'm checking to see if he responds to touch." She stated, "If he responds, then he has enough blood for his body to function."

"So... lem'me get this straight," York sighed. "You're trying to turn him on to see if he's alive?"

"Yes and no." She replied turning to face York. "If he has enough blood to get an erection, or even a blush, then I'm sure he can survive."

"Okay..." York said a blush growing on his own face. "I only understood part of that... But you might wanna get a guy in here if that doesn't work."

"What? Why?"

"Well... Wash is gay." He shrugged.

"Oh, I see... But if that's true, why can't you help?"

"Uhhh..."

"Were you two...?" She looked at him with wide eyes.

"Yes... yes, okay. But, you can't tell anyone. The only reason I'm in this stupid war is to stay with Wash. Being a freelancer means everything to him."

"Don't worry, your secret's safe with me."

"_York, don't worry. I can keep your secret." Agent Michigan had told him. She was the first person that had found out about York and Wash._

_York had just nodded his head, and gave a small smile. _

_He and Wash had been in the dorms, spending a little time together before they had to go on separate missions, and Mich walked in as Wash had claimed York's lips with his. She had stared at them, wide-eyed and mouth agape._

_Wash had been so embarrassed... he ran out of the room with a bright red blush growing on his face and collarbone. York had stayed, trying to convince Mich not to say anything._

_After York had gone to his dorm to get his few personal things together before he was off to a mission, Mich ran to the mess hall, not checking to see if anyone followed._

_"Guys! Guess who I caught kissin' in the dorms!"_

_All eyes in the room turned to her._

_"Washington and York!" She shouted, the mess hall erupted into laughter._

_Wash had been peering around the corner into the mess hall, tears were building their way into his eyes. One of his closest friends... She just gave away his deepest secret without a second thought!_

_"I don't care what they think..." He spoke aloud to himself kicking the wall, then shoving his hands into his pockets. He ran down the hallway, to find York. He still spoke aloud. "I love him... They can say all they want... I don't care..."_

"Fine, I trust you," York said with a grimace from his short-lived memory. He assumed it would end the same way this time, too.

"But you know what you get when you assume..." Delta's image appeared to the right of York.

"Yeah, when I assume, I make an ass out of you and me." He whispered. "I remember..."


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N from A.C.: Happy lovey kissy moment at the end of this. XD**_

York had gotten the medic to agree to do surgery on Wash in return for a promised favor. As the medic shuffled through her bags for needles, thread and her other surgical supplies, York had been sitting on the floor, knees to his chest and forehead on his knees. He was desperately trying to not tear up at the painful memories, and not to grin at the happy ones. He didn't want to show any emotion toward this horrible incident.

The loud bangs and crashes kept triggering flashbacks of Wash and York together, happy and laughing. Either cooking their dinners, helping the people in the freelancer mess hall or just playing around. But they also flashed him back to painful ones, full of the awful abuse they took at the freelancer base.

One, was possibly the worst York could remember,

_Shortly after Michigan had found out, and told everyone about York and Wash, rumors were spreading like wildfire. York and Wash's missions were both given to different soldiers until they could get their thoughts together. York was laying on his cot, alone in a room he shared with Agent Tennessee. His eyes were red and puffy and his bottom lip was trembling. York was trying to gather his thoughts when he let out a choked sob._

_Wash heard the noise when he was passing the room to get to his own. He cracked open the door and saw the man in distress laying on the bed, lightly quivering and trying not to sob again. York's eyes were tightly closed, trying to imagine things that were not what was around him at the moment._

_Wash crept into the room and walked over to the cot, he crouched beside York and spoke softly._

_"York, are you alright?"_

_The freelancer rolled over in bed and groaned, "Tenn, please go away, I'm not in the mood."_

_Wash spoke louder this time, "Tenn? It's Wash, dumbass!"_

_"Whoever you claim to be, I don't care, just leave." The cold voice sent Wash's mind spinning as a sudden sharp pain got to his heart._

_"York, just look at me, do you think I honestly care what those asses think about us? I care about you, not my reputation."_

_The man on the cot shifted, rolling around to face the older man. His teary eyes looked into Wash's clear hazel ones. York heaved a heavy sigh, and coughed out another sob. He shook his head lightly, and sat up, staring intently at the floor between his feet. _

_"York, the base's floors are not really all that interesting. Look at me..." Wash brought his hand out to York's face and gently swiped away a tear trailing from his eye. His hand traveled down to York's jaw and under his chin. Wash gently rose York's head and made the tear-stained eyes look at him._

_York wiped under his nose with the sleeve of his sweatshirt and sighed. He gave in, the teary man jumped into Wash's arms relishing the feeling of them, sinking into them. Wash fell to the floor on his back, a shocked expression on his face when York jumped at him. The smaller man was laying on top of Wash, looking down at him. In a quick movement York bent his head down and stole a passionate kiss from Wash, their lips joining together and breaking apart to deepen the loving kiss. Wash closed his eyes into the kiss, relishing at how forceful York had been._

_The two broke apart at the sound of the dorm's metal door smashing into the wall. Tennessee was standing in the doorway, in his training clothes - a tank-top and sweatpants. His hand was still out where it was when he pushed the door open._

_"What the hell are you two fags doing in MY room!" He screeched._

_"Tenn! It's my room too!" York yelled, hopping up from his spot, strangely not taken aback by the harsh word used by his roommate._

_Wash, however, jumped up and tackled Tennessee to the ground. The larger man caught Tenn in the stomach with his fist, all of the air jumped from Tenn's lungs, leaping out of his gasping mouth. Wash's hands clamped around the man's throat and held tight._

_"Don't EVER call us by that word AGAIN." He hissed, venom lining his voice._

_"Won't! I... I... Won't!" Tennessee managed to choke out._

_Wash climbed off of the gasping man under him, and calmly walked to York. The other man had been standing where he had jumped up when Tennessee walked in. His expression was of pure horror. _

_The recovery agent took York's hand in his and smiled sweetly. "York, c'mon, let's go."_

"York! York! C'mon! Snap out of it!" Eliza's voice met York's ears like a cannon blast.

"What?"

"It's Wash, he's loosing to much blood, get my gauze hurry, we need to wrap his head and try and prevent more bleeding. Hurry up!"

York ran into the spare bedroom and frantically searched around for the medical bag that Eliza had left in there. The large medical bag was sitting near the still blood-stained cot.

"York! Hurry, he's losing too much blood!"

"I have the bag! I'm getting there as fast as I can!"

York shifted his weight and slung the medical bag over his shoulder. He hefted the bag over to the closed bathroom door and pushed it open with his shoulder. York walked to the small tub and to Eliza, setting the bag down beside her.

"We need to get this done fast, then maybe I can get some extra blood from a soldier here to give to Wash."

"Don't you need the same blood type he has to transfer it?" York asked as he opened the bag and handed her a needle and medical thread.

She gratefully took it from him and set the skull bone into place firmly before she started to sew the skin over it. The medic made quick and accurate swipes with the needle and thread, talking to York as she worked.

"Yes, you do." She began, not sparing a look to York."His blood type is O positive, and most of the men stationed here are, too.

"Wait, how-?"

"How'd I know that? Call to command when you were out of the room." She gave a smirk, still not turning from her work. She made a few last stitches and looked to York, keeping a hand on Wash's head, "Hand me the gauze would you?"

"Yeah, sure..." York reached into the bag and took out a large bundle of cloth, handing it over to the medic. "How's he holding up?"

"He'll survive if we can get a soldier here to donate some blood to him."

"_Will he make it?" Wash asked, looking to York on the bunk in his room._

"_Yes, yes." The freelancer base's medic replied. "He'll make it, just make sure he gets plenty of liquids and that he takes his medicine. It was only the flu, but a bad one... I'm glad you called me." He looked to York, then to Wash, "If you'd have just let him wait and get better, I don't think he would've have made it through..."_

"_It was that bad, huh?"_

"_Yes, in retrospect it was." He sighed, "Has he ever gotten injured or sick before on a mission?"_

"_Not since the eye incident. Well, and just this last mission, he just leaned over and threw up into the bushes. I had to call command and get different agents out there."_

"Does private Smith have the right blood type? He said he'd help with anything."

"Smith..? I'll have to check..." She responded, tightly wrapping the gauze around Wash's matted hair, keeping it from going into his eyes.

_York had been a freelance for around two years, he hadn't been home since, and the closest thing to family that he had was Wash. York was laying on his back in his cot, Washington was hovering above him on his hands and knees. The larger freelancer had removed both of their shirts and was tracing his fingers over York's chest and biceps, making small invisible shapes. The smaller man shuddered into his touch, bringing his hand to the back of Wash's head and grabbing a fistful of hair. York pulled his lover's head down and brought Wash into a bruising kiss._

"_Mmn..." Wash moaned at the kiss, pulling back he looked into York's eyes. "York, no matter what happens on ANY mission... I want to let you know, I'll always love you."_

"_And on any mission," He responded, "I'll protect you."_

_He brought Wash into another kiss, wrapping his arms around the older man's neck. After a few moments, he pulled back just slightly so their lips were still touching, "I love you, David..."_

"Please, will you check?"


	4. Chapter 4

_**A/N from A.C.: B'aw~ This fic is almost over... Epical sadface.**_

"Come in, Command." Eliza had grabbed her headset out of her helmet and spoke loudly into it, York watching from beside the tub."Command, this is Medical Officer Murdock, come in."

"Command to Murdock." Came the operator-like feminine reply, "What can we help you with?"

"Could you please connect to red team files, location: Sandtrap outpost 19b."

"On it..." The response was stalled by a few clicks of a keyboard."Okay, Sandtrap, 19b. What information do you need?"

"Can you check a private Smith and tell me what blood type he has?"

"Can do, Smith..." The name was drawn out as a few clicks of the keyboard were heard for a few minutes. "Okay, Smith has type A negative. Is that all?"

"No..." Eliza replied with a heavy sigh. "Do any of the soldiers at 19b have type O positive?"

"Er, yes, Privates Morgan and AJ." Came the dull reply.

"Okay, thanks Command."

"Anytime, Murdock. Command, out."

"Murdock, out." She clicked the headset off and put it back with her helmet.

York got up from where he sat and walked to the medic. He lightly put a hand on her shoulder and forced her to turn around. York looked into her eyes and sighed. "He doesn't have Wash's blood type does he?"

She looked up sadly from the floor and stopped playing with the headset's cord. "No, sorry. There are only two people here with Wash's blood type."

"Then let's go get them to help!" York shouted, walking to the bathroom door. He turned to look back at Eliza, who didn't move from the spot York left her at. "Are you coming?"

"York," She started, walking a little towards him. "I don't know if these guys'll just let us take their blood... Don't be surprised if they don't let us."

"I know... I'm just... I want to help Wash."

"_I just want to help you..." York sighed, turning to the man sitting on the couch in the freelancer base's rec room. Wash's arm was stuck in a sling, he had fractured it after he was pushed from a moving warthog on a mission to recover Theta._

_Wash laughed, and looked to York,"You are, you're taking care of me. That's all I could have asked for."_

"Well, call for Smith and ask for one of them."

"Alright." York walked out of the bathroom, then out of the spare room and shouted for Smith. "Smith! Bring Private Morgan to the spare room!"

He heard the familiar voice of the red call back an affirmative answer and silently prayed that Morgan would have the right blood type.

"Yes, sir?" A tall regulation red private stood at attention in the doorway a few minutes later. His helmet was tucked under his right arm; he reached to his head and ruffled his long dark brown hair. His bright green eyes were bright in the dim light of the room, and they complimented his tan complexion quite nicely in the freelancer's opinion.

"Private Morgan, correct?" York asked, taking a step towards the soldier.

"Yes," He replied, noting the serious look on York's face. "Why?"

"Why tell you when I can show you?" He smirked. "Follow me." York started walking towards the bathroom door, he gently pushed it open and held it open for Morgan.

The private glanced around the room, eyes landing heavily on Eliza. She was crouched next to the tub, checking Wash's bandages. Morgan saw the tub, bottom covered in a thin layer of blood. The recovery agent was lying on the bloody bottom, arms propped up on the sides, and head lolled to the side, resting on his shoulder.

York calmly walked over to Wash and lifted something that was lying on his chest, and pulled it over his head. He turned on his heel and walked slowly back to Morgan, playing with the metal chain that he had taken from Wash. He took a last look at the chain he held and handed it to the red.

"These are Agent Washington's dog tags." York sighed, watching Morgan finger the chain. "He was injured by a wound to the skull, now has very little blood. Definitely not enough to survive. I'd show you the injury, but you'd probably vomit... plus, it's covered."

"Who... or what... attacked 'im?"

"We don't know, that's kinda why we called you."

"But... What can I do to help?" Morgan said, looking to Wash then to York. "I'm just a private..."

"Yes. But you have Wash's blood type..." York said softly."He needs a blood transfer or he'll die... But," He quickly added, "If you don't wanna help, I understand."

York turned from the private, hanging his head and looking to the floor, he walked over to Eliza. The freelancer put a hand on her shoulder and looked to Wash.

"How's he doin'?"

"Could be better," She laughed lightly, she looked to Morgan who was standing in the spot York left him in, still fingering the dog tags. Eliza lowered he voice to a whisper, "But, I don't know if he'll make it much longer without a transfer."

"Great..." York sighed, eyeing Wash's breathing. He saw the chest rise and fall, but suddenly his breathing hitched, and stopped for a few seconds before starting in it's slow pace once again.

York whipped around quickly to face Morgan. "Are you going to help us, or what?"

The regulation red private looked into the hazel eyes of York, then turned his head to look at Wash's slow rising chest. He numbly fiddled with the dog tags in is hand as he looked to York again.

"Okay..." Morgan spoke in barely a whisper.

"Y- You'll do it?" York could hardly contain his excitement, "Really?"

"Yeah, I'll help." Morgan's eyes traveled to Wash's body once more as the rising of his chest hitched again.

"Eliza! Get ready, he said he'll donate the blood!"

"Okay, York." She laughed lightly, "We'll get started soon. I just need to get everything ready."

York slid down the wall behind him. He brought his knees to his chest and his arms propped up on his knees. He rested his head lightly on his folded arms. York felt his heavy lidded eyes close lightly, and let sleep take him. He saw things worse than memories; dreams. Dreams of Wash and himself... together... laughing, crying, loving each other, and more. To York the dreams were more realistic and powerful than memories. He would be asleep for a while too, he hadn't slept since the night before he got Wash's recovery beacon.

_Wash had gotten into a fight, again... He was getting sick of people degrading York and himself. Tenn had pushed Wash too far this time and Wash's sanity snapped like a brittle twig. York had been ordered by the Recovery Agent, not to intervene and to stay on the dorm's cot._

_Wash was pressed into the dorm room's wall, struggling to get away, clawing fiercely at the arm pressed hard into his throat. The Recovery Agent was gasping for air and York was leaning forward at the tense moment, fists in the bed sheets, willing himself not to jump up and tackle Tenn... it was Wash's fight._

_Tenn backed away, dropping Wash to the ground. Wash got on his knees and his left hand. His head was down and his right hand was rubbing at his throat. His eyes shifted up, not daring to lift his head. Wash glared at the cocky look on Tenn's face. Tenn turned to take slow, threatening steps toward York. York had nowhere to run, he shifted back on the bed until his back hit the wall._

_Wash took this opportunity to catch his breath and leap onto Tenn's back, forcing him to the ground. The shocked freelancer was forced to turn onto his back and Wash brought his face close to Tenn's._

"_Never turn your back on an enemy." Wash hissed breathlessly to Tenn. "And NEVER threaten York!"_

York shifted in his spot. Eliza had let him sleep as she took Morgan's blood. The red was quietly hissing in pain as the medic pushed a needle into his skin.

_Wash was panting hard as he took a fistful of York hair and forced them into a bruising kiss. The smaller agent smiled into the rough kiss, he broke it after a few long seconds to lick down Wash's neck, sucking and biting on the warm skin under his lips. Wash tilted his head, allowing for more room. York gave another small grin and started biting once more, causing a light, throaty moan from Wash. _

The freelancer shifted in his spot on the floor once again, smiling softly as a faint blush grew on his cheeks.


	5. Chapter 5

_**A/N from A.C.: Welp, this is the end. Hope everyone enjoyed the story!**_

Eliza put the donated blood into a bag and hooked that up to an IV. She took the tube with the needle in one hand and pushed the needle tip into Wash's wrist.

York had slumped from the wall and was now lying on the floor, on his left side, using his arm as a pillow. He grunted and curled into a tight ball as a cold chill went over him.

"Just look at him," Eliza turned and cooed at the dreamy look on York's face.

"Yeah, yeah," Morgan replied dryly, "very cute. Hey, could you tell me how he got that scar?"

"No," The medic said, her eyes automatically drawn to York's left eye. "I couldn't tell you, but even if I knew, I wouldn't say. York seems to be real self-conscious about it."

The red private gave a small grunt of acknowledgement.

Eliza turned to face the young red, "What do you think he's dreaming about...?"

"_Agent Washington. It's an order. Shoot him." The Director ordered in a harsh voice._

_York was sitting on his knees on the floor, his ankles were bound with rope and his hands were tied behind his back. A cloth was tied around his head, so it was gagging him, pulled tight so it would surely leave marks. He had small traces of tears going down his cheeks and was whimpering softly, his whole body shaking in fear. York's eyes were clenched shut; he was trying to shrink into a corner so the two other men in the room would forget about him._

_Wash's eyes closed as he forced himself to raise his pistol. The recovery agent's hand was shaking violently; he opened his eyes again to see the cold, metal gun barrel pressed to the side of York's head._

"_Shoot him, Agent Washington." The harsh voice broke through to Wash's ears._

_The Director took slow steps toward York, he raised his own gun up and pressed it to the other side of York's head. "If you don't shoot him, I will."_

_Fresh tears started pouring from York's eyes. He was shaking even worse now under the weight of the two guns, muffled cries snuck past the gag as he tried to beg for help._

"_I-I can't..." Wash's voice was wavered as he spoke.._

"_Then, Washington, you chose his fate." He cocked the pistol and pressed it hard against the freelancer's head. _

"_No!" Wash yelped and jumped for the Director, he jabbed the man in the stomach with his shoulder. Wash knocked the Director to the ground just as the shot rang through the near empty room. The bullet missed York by just centimeters. Wash turned quickly, his pistol now pressed to the side of the Director's head._

"_You," Wash hissed, "I'm not afraid to kill."_

York's heart rate sped up at the intense memory and was turning and shifting on the floor, letting out low whimpers and grunts.

"Should we wake 'im up?" Morgan asked softly.

Eliza checked her watch and looked to York again, "I suppose we should, it's been about 6 hours since he fell asleep."

Morgan shrugged and walked over to the sleeping freelancer. He lightly tapped York's ribs with his armored foot; York stirred slightly and sat up less than willingly. He rubbed his eyes and blinked to Morgan, silently demanding an explanation.

"You were having a nightmare." Morgan said matter-of-factly.

"Mmm... Thanks for waking me."

"No problem."

"York! Morgan! Wash is waking up!" Eliza shrieked from her spot back by the bathtub.

"Mmm... 'Kay..." York groaned. "... Wait... What?"

Morgan pushed him lightly, "Wash is awake!"

"HE'S WHAT?"

York rushed into the spacious bathroom. He dropped to his knees at the side of the tub containing the recovery agent.

Wash's eyes were half-lidded and cloudy. He was still resting his head on his shoulder, and his breathing was a little heavier. The recovery agent's mouth was open slightly, breaths coming out evenly.

"Wash? Are you alright?" York asked softly, putting a hand on Wash's forearm lightly.

The recovery agent gently jumped in his spot at the touch. He looked to York with unfocused hazel eyes.

York gave a sad sigh at the look on Wash's face, and turned to Eliza, "Do you think he lost his memory?"

"No, I don't think that would be possible. The fracture only cracked his skull, from what I saw, his brain wasn't really affected at all." The medic replied.

York sighed and looked back to Wash, the agent had managed to sit himself up while the two were talking. He was lightly tracing the deep wounds on his chest with his index finger. Wash could feel the gaze of someone on him, he looked up to see York staring at him, and his eyes grew wide.

"... York...?"

"Wash! You're okay!" York yelped at the weak voice. He jumped to his feet and ran to Eliza. "Ohh... ThankyouThankyouThankyou!" He dragged her into a tight hug then turned on Morgan and did the same.

"C'n someone please 'elp me..?" Wash slurred quietly, still sitting in a thin layer of his drying blood.

York darted over to Wash's side and helped him out of the tub. The bigger freelancer wrapped his arms around York in a tight hug. "Thanks f'r coming f'r me... I love you..."

"You're welcome, hon." York said gently, pulling away slightly from Wash. York started to trace Wash's jaw and collarbone with his fingers. After a moment of silence between the two, York spoke again, "But, Wash, who attacked you?"

Wash rubbed the back of his head, feeling the stitches that were there, "Damn... Tenn sure can hold a grudge."


End file.
